


Understanding

by spraypaintedgold



Category: Youtube RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Ben is dating Tyde here so yeah, Frenemies, M/M, Melix, Phan - Freeform, Tronnor, hangrid, janiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-19
Updated: 2015-08-25
Packaged: 2018-04-15 15:11:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4611387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spraypaintedgold/pseuds/spraypaintedgold
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They're not really supposed to be the way they are. Troye doesn't understand football, but he understands Connor. Connor doesn't understand theatre, but he understands Troye. They hate each other, but hate doesn't understand them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Idiot

**Author's Note:**

> Swear words and mention of sex.  
> tumblr: predaceffa.tumblr.com  
> wattpad: spraypaintedgold

People are cheering, screaming. Waving poster boards with the school colors and chanting along with the cheerleaders.  
Troye is waving his phone in the air, trying to get decent signal so he can continue scrolling on Tumblr.  
"You're not paying any attention, Tro." Kayla frowns.  
"Like you can talk, your  _boyfriend_  is on the field."  
She purses her lips, then rolls her eyes, knowing it's a lost battle.  
The game goes by like a breeze for Troye. He checks the One Direction tag, one ball finds its way into the net, scored by Caspar, probably. He scrolls through posts about Blue Ivy, the away team equalizes. He reblogs a shit ton of bandom posts, then looks up to see Connor score the winning goal at the last minute.  
Kayla screams, jumping up and down with the rest of the student body.  
Troye pays no mind, sitting silent beside his friends. Ugh, when he joined the theatre kids he was  _not_  signing up to be totally entwined with the football team. What kind of school has its most popular clique be half drama geeks and half soccer nerds, anyway?   
The only thing Troye has tolerance for are the parties they always have after they win a game. There's decent music, and Troye can always hide out in the home office until he's allowed to drive himself home.  
Him and his friends are swaying, gripping red solo cups- some filled with alcohol and others filled with fruit juice. Troye has chosen the latter.  
"It was  _phenomenal_ , Con. The only time Troye even bothered to look up was when you scored." Dan jibes, teasing Troye.  
"Oh shut up, you asshat."  
"I didn't know you thought so highly of me." Connor grins to Troye, nudging him in the upper arm.  
"You know I couldn't give less of a shit about you, right?"  
"Oh, stop flirting. It's getting too adorable in here." Hannah deadpans.  
Troye cringes, remembering he's supposed to dial back the banter with Connor. "Sorry." He mutters.  
Connor whispers over to him when the rest of the group has been swamped by the topic of a new Pixar film. "I don't mind, you know."  
"Yeah I know, that's why I do it. They're so sensitive to it, oh my God. Sometimes I don't even know why you're the one I dislike."  
"Eh, we understand each other. That's why. We could probably control each other, if we wanted. We just know how far our boundaries go and that's why it works."  
"When did you became such a philosopher?"  
"After I stopped being an idiot."  
"Oh, did that pass already? I hardly even noticed."  
Connor nearly tries to cover his rolling eyes, but he quickly gives up. "You're such a dick sometimes." He watches Troye's lip part. "Don't you  _dare_  make a comment."  
Troye grabs Connor from behind, wrapping his arms around his waist and catching the midfielder off-guard.  
Connor erupts into laughter, swatting the younger boy's tickling hands away. "Fuck off, you jerk!"  
Their friends eye them suspiciously, still as confused as they were when Troye and Connor first interacted.  
"You guys aren't like, frenemies with benefits are you?" Phil inquires, scrunching his nose in curiosity under his wide rim black glasses.   
"What if we are? Maybe Connor sucks my dick." Troye wags his eyebrows, suggestively.  
"Oh please, if anything  _you_  would blow  _me_."  
"Keep on dreaming, Con."  
"Trust me, I will be."  
"You're so fucking gross!" Troye laughs, shoving Connor lightly in the side.  
  
\---

"Am I ever going to be in the light about your relationship with Connor?" Kayla wonders as she gazes out Troye's car window at the street lights passing against a black background.  
"Relationship? There's barely  _anything_  to ship."  
"Exactly. You think the guy is a bloody moron, then you two go and act like high school's cutest couple."  
"When do we ever do that?"  
"Like, whenever you're in the same room. You go from really annoying subtle loathing, to really annoying over-the-top affection in five seconds flat."  
Troye doesn't have anything to respond with.  
"I just want to know why, Troye."  
Troye shrugs. In fact he's not even quite sure himself. "It's fun."  
"There must be  _something_  about him that you find attractive. I see the way you look at him, Tro."  
"If you're trying to figure out if I think he's hot, the answer is yes." Troye mutters, activating the turn signal and rounding onto their street with no further addition.  
Kayla's dumbfounded. How can you totally insult someone, seethe at them, and treat them like they're nothing, then flirt around with them? "Wait, Tro. What... do you do with him when none of us are around?"  
He sighs. "That's a little private, don't you think?"  
That's a little  _odd_.

\---

"So a little birdie told me that you think I'm hot." Connor chuckles, hooking his chin over Troye's shoulder.  
Troye shakes Connor off, sliding his Calculus textbook under his arm and shutting his locker. "Lots of people think you're hot, you dick. Look around. You're the Junior everyone thinks is naive and innocent, so they undress you with their eyes and shit while you're walking through the halls.  _Everyone_  does it." Troye gulps, eyes skimming down Connor's skinny jeans.  
"Yeah," Connor beams, poking his finger out at Troye, "But  _you're_  special."  
"Wow, fluffing up my ego  _and_  his in one comment. That's how a guy wins me over."  
"I know right? At this rate, we're getting married by the end of the week."  
"Don't push it, Franta."


	2. First Kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *chants* blue neighborhOOD BLUE NEIGHBORHOOD

"Ow!" Connor shrieks out in pain, falling victim to Troye's repetitive slaps.  
"What's happening?" Kayla questions in monotone as she walks into the courtyard. She doesn't take the time to look up from her phone.  
"He's  _hitting_  me!"  
"Kayla, he insulted  _The Pajama Game_. A fairly wonderful theatre staple."  
"I didn't know you liked The Pajama Game." She adds.  
Troue shrugs sheepishly. "Neither did I."  
"I think you just want to go against everything Connor says."  
"Maybe."  
"Will you stop hurting me?" Connor rubs his arm. "You're lucky I don't play tennis, boy."

\---

"You don't even deserve to be on the team, you know." She narrows her eyes at Connor, trying to really beat him down with her pupils.  
He knows all too well.  
"You're just lucky. You don't have the talent. And God, that's the only reason why people like you too. 'Cause you play football!"  
Troye exits his Lab class early, only to enter a particularly gruesome one-way shouting match. None of the bullshit spilling out of the new girl's mouth is true but Connor wouldn't be able to tell the difference, Troye knows that about him.  
He glares poison at her as he approaches Connor calmly. "Hey, Connor's a  _wonderful_  guy. I don't even like him and I can tell that he's spectacular. So just fuck off, yeah? Complain to your boyfriend or girlfriend about how terrible he is, but don't bring that shit to waste Connor's time."  
She shoots them a glare of indifference and struts away, off to her next class most likely. "Couple of fags."   
"Well sorry honey, but those  _fags_ happen to rule this school. She's probably going to be stricken with embarrassment when she finds out.  _God_ , people are rude." He chuckles. "Connor?  _Oh no_."  
"She's right. I'm a shit player, Troye."  
"No you're not. You're fucking brilliant. I've seen the way you play, you're electric. Your plays are like no other. You know the field like the back of your hand, and your team looks up to you. You balance everybody." Troye hushes, rubbing a hand gently on Connor's back.  
"Look at you finding positives in football." The corners of his eyes crinkle to let his smile fly, even if his gaze is grave.  
"Only for slumpy Connor."  
"Thanks, Troye."  
"I still hate you, for the record." Troye adds with a grin.  
Connor smiles, waving him away so the boy can grab his lunch. "Hate you too."

\---

"Why do you let Troye beat you up?"  
"I have literally no idea what you're talking about."  
"Please. You could hand his ass to him in two seconds flat, but you sit there and let him play-smack you for trivial little things. That's how someone acts with a child, not their enemy."  
"Or your girlfriend." Connor says, looking at Kian pointedly.   
"You literally just compared Troye to my girlfriend. You basically called him your boyfriend."  
"I did no such thing."  
"But you-  _Fine_. Just, why?"  
"It doesn't actually hurt me. And come on, I'm not blind. I know he likes to do it to me- and only me- for a reason."  
Kian smirks, clearly amused by the comment just dropped by his friend. "And what exactly is that reason?"  
Connor blushes. "I don't know. But I do know that he gives a shit about me."

\---

"Honestly,  _fuck_  these parties." Troye laughs in defeat while his friends scurry off to the floor.  
"I know right?" Connor chuckles. "Who gives a shit if it's Michelle Kolahaan's birthday? I don't even know who she is."  
"She's got killer wardrobe though." Troye glances around and clicks his tongue. "Killer house."  
"Troye, Connor, get over here!" Kian yells, ushering them over to the ground.  
"What obsolete teenage drinking game are we playing? Never Have I Ever, Spin The Bottle?" Troye asks with mock excitement.  
"Truth or Dare."  
"Should've guessed. So what are the rules? Truth or Dare or Shot?"  
"Nah, it's not about the drinking. Tonight the secrets come out."  
Troye laughs shakily. "Cool."  
"Let's begin?" Joey claps his hands together. "I'll start!" He twists the empty solo cup in the center, spinning it so it lands on someone in the circle.  
It stops at Daniel, or back at Joey, depending on how you interpret it. He's sitting on Daniel's lap, so it's not like it matters either way.  
 _How weird_ , Troye notes sarcastically in his mind.  
"Kiss me." Joey suggests.  
"I didn't even pick Truth or Dare,  _Dearium_."  
Joey smirks, "Do you have to?"  
Daniel answers with a roll of the eyes before taking his hands in Joey's hair and connecting their mouths.  
"Okay," Daniel takes a go at the cup and cracks a grin as it lands on Shane. "Truth or Dare?"  
"Dare."  
"Kiss Tyler on the cheek."  
"Oh my God, you are so tame sometimes."  
Daniel shrugs before adding. "You don't wanna see me when I'm  _Wild_."  
"Coming Soon." Troye mutters under his breath.  
"What?"  
"Nothing."  
Shane pulls out a theatrical sigh from the depths of his chest and leans over to Tyler. "I'm only doing this for your safety." He pecks him on the cheek, leaving a loud smack sound when he pulls away. "Take my turn, I'm going to get a drink."  
"Okay, step aside, the Queen is here." Tyler leans over, and with one perfect flick of the wrist, gets it to pause right at Troye's feet.  
"How do you do it?" Dan yells. "You always get exactly who you're trying to get. It's blasphemy!"  
"Dan, you're a little bit drunk." Phil sighs.  
"Truth or Dare? Don't worry, I'll go easy on you, Troye. I wouldn't make you die of embarrassment before the spring production."  
"Truth. And are you  _sure_  about that?"  
"Mostly. Okay, simple. Um, oh! Who was your first kiss? Plain and quick."  
That is absolutely not plain or quick or easy or simple. He laughs weakly. "What's the dare?"  
"Oh my God, have you never kissed anyone?" Tyler asks, shocked. "I'm so sorry for-"  
"No, I have." He mutters. He shoots a glance over to a certain nervous midfielder, but no one notices.  
Tyler smirks, raised eyebrow deadly with suggestion. "So is there a reason why you don't want to bring it to light?"  
"None at all."  
"The dare is to kiss the person who was your first,  _if_  they're in this room."  
"Okay, fine. My first kiss was," Troye blushes and hides his face from the rest, "Connor."


	3. Almost Dating

"Wait, what the  _fuck_?" Tyler whispers, paralyzed in his criss-cross position on the floor.  
"What the actual hell?" Dan exclaims, a tiny slur on the tip of his tongue.  
"This is tea." Daniel sings before taking a sip of his herbal boba milk.  
"How did? When did?  _Oh my God_." Tyler recaps to himself.  
Troye smirks, already twisting the cup in the center. "You can ask next turn. Phil, Truth or Dare?"  
"Uh, dare."  
"Remove an article of clothing from the hottest person in the room."  
Phil shrugs, before pulling his glow-in-the-dark Mario Kart sock off.  
" _Phil_!" Dan chastises, dragging out the i as he always does when Phil is secretly amusing him. "Did you really  _just_?"  
"I did." He flicks the red cup with his index finger, watching as it slowly dribbles to Tyler.  
"Tyler, I swear you're a wizard!" Dan huffs.  
"Well, we're not too far from Hogwarts now are we, Dear?" Tyler cackles.  
"Is that an insult to the land of the Queen?" Dan gasps as one of the only members of the school that is actually a United Kingdom local.  
"I don't know if you know this, but since my joining of this school, England has become the land of two Queens."  
"Settle down." Phil demands lightly, bopping Dan and Tyler's heads. "Tyler, Truth or Dare?"  
"Dare."  
"I dare you to lick Caspar." He says without second thought.  
Caspar whines. "You all are gross." Before braving Tyler's tongue briefly on his throat. He then laughs and cuddles Tyler around the neck, squeezing tight enough that he'd be pulled off by the cops if they were in public.  
"Here the show goes down." Tyler smirks, before tipping the cup into a vertigo of teenage recklessness. It spills and spins, right to Connor.  
Dan gives a muffled shriek of disbelief beneath Phil's hand plastered over his mouth.  
"Truth or Dare,  _Con Da Bon_?"  
If he says truth, Tyler will definitely ask him about how it happened. Are they going to spill? He glances at Troye.  
Troye offers a sheepish smile. "Whatever," he mouths.  
"Dare."  
"I dare you..." A deliciously devious grin snakes onto Tyler's lips. "Kiss Troye. Like, no pecking bullshit, actually kiss."  
Connor groans, then leans to his right. "Here we go."  
"Yes, hello." Troye rolls his eyes, scooching closer.  
The older boy is sliding a hand to Troye's cheek, breath lingering over his lips.  
His skin is cold, and Troye's heart is pounding so rapidly that it hurts. It's awkward.  
"Well, you're taking your time." He notes, voice so condescending Connor would pout if he wasn't so nervous.  
"Yep."   
"Do you want me to kiss you?"  
Connor nods slowly, only static in front of Troye.  
Troye closes the three inch gap between them. He presses their lips together in a soft, innocent peck, then parts his lips slightly when Tyler makes an accusing gargle.  
It's nice, and that's what makes it stupid. Every time that they kiss- not that they kiss frequently or  _anything_ \- Troye finds that he wants it, he wants  _Connor_. But obviously, he can't have Connor. Connor thinks that they both hate each other. And so does he. Sort of.  
Needless to say, Troye is in for a pleasant surprise. Just as he is when Connor slips his tongue between Troye's lips and starts crawling towards him. Troye slips his hands into the back pocket of Connor's jeans and stifles his moan, though he's sure Connor can feel the vibrations since they're literally sharing saliva. Troye cracks open one eye to look at his friends, and he briefly catches glimpse of Ingrid smirking at him, tapping her wrist to show that it has gone on for way too long. He flips all of them the finger before falling backwards with an "oof" when Connor collapses atop him.  
"Hi." Michelle greets slowly, "Do you two need a room? 'Cause I have-"  
"No! No, we're absolutely fine!" Connor shoots up and shoots a sugary grin at her as he peels his body off of Troye's. "Thank you, though! That's very sweet of you!"  
"Okay, well if you and your boyfriend need one, just find me. You and Troye are very cute together, by the way." She twirls away into the crowd, meeting up with her other guests.  
"She just called me your boyfriend."  
"She thinks we're dating." Connor repeats, mouth agape. He's still straddling Troye's lap, but he's too frozen to move.  
" _Everyone_  thinks you're dating. Or that you hate each other. Little bit of both, really." Hannah laughs as she scratches her head confusedly.  
Tyler is fanning himself, just to tease the both of them. "Quite a show, huh boys?"  
" _Shut up_ , Tyler."

\---

"Just wear my jacket, Troye."  
"No way."  
"You're freezing."  
"No, I'm not!" Troye argues through clattering teeth.  
Connor rolls his eyes, slipping his team jacket off of his shoulders and around Troye. "Better?"  
"This is not helping that people think we're together."  
"What's wrong with that?"  
"Well for one, I fucking hate you."  
"Right back at you. But I'm not going to let you turn into an ice cube just because people think we're fucking. And can you blame them? I sort of jumped you at Kolahaan's party." He sighs. "Sorry, again."  
"Don't apologize. I wasn't exactly in opposition." Troye shakes the sleeves around his wrists- the jacket fits him perfectly, so he knows it must be huge on Connor. "We better go inside, staying out too long and me wearing a  _ _Franta_ _ jacket is probably going to give everyone the wrong idea." He rolls his lip between his teeth in consideration before adding, "I am warmer now. Thanks, Connor." He presses a quick kiss to the shorter boy's cheek and skips off to the front door.  
"Helping our case, now are we?" Connor calls after Troye smugly.  
"I hate you, Franta!"  
"You too, babe!"

\---

"So, what's this jacket business?" Kayla smirks, waving her pencil in the air as she looks over her Biology textbook.   
"He gave it to me because I was cold, okay?"  
"You have other jackets." She accuses.  
"I know. But it's really soft. And it doesn't look bad on me."  
"And it's  _Connor's_. You're literally begging for people to call you high school's cutest couple."  
"In what world would we ever be high school's cutest couple?"  
"I don't know. A world where we all live in a  _Common Culture_."  
"Compilation on iTunes and Spotify now." Troye mumbles.  
"What?"  
"Nothing."  
"Point is, you don't hate Connor."  
"How do you know? I could think he's a self-obsessed jerk and still wear his shirt."  
"But you don't think he's a self-obsessed jerk, do you?"  
"No."  
"What do you actually like about him?"  
He scrunches his face in thought. "His face. His smile. I don't know, his writing, his photography, his laugh? Are you trying to turn me into a Nicholas Sparks protagonist?"  
"Hey, I'm trying to go John Green here." She laughs, almost righteous but only expressing joy for her friend's undercover affection, "What  _don't_  you like about him?"  
"Everything I like about him."  
"You're ridiculous."


	4. EXTREME DDR

"Uh, Troye?" Connor inquires, blinking through the dark up at an obscured figure at the end of the school hall. He squints as he wipes his mouth and stands up from the water fountain. "That you?"  
Connor hears a choked up grunt of confirmation, so he travels to the boy, soccer bag bouncing against his leg. He's completely wet and cold from just having a shower and he's totally exhausted- plus he needs to be back at the school in an hour for the spring production. But never mind that  _he_  needs to be there, Troye should be at final rehearsal in a few minutes. "Shouldn't you be getting ready for the big night, buddy?"  
"I'm not a fucking dog, Connor." Troye spits.  
If he keeps spending time with this boy his eyeballs are going to roll out. "Shouldn't you be getting ready,  _babe_?"  
Troye raises an eyebrow, then lets it go. "I should, but I can't. I don't have my koala!"  
"Your  _koala_?"  
"My  _little_  koala. It's usually in my book bag. I got it from my first theatre company in Australia, as a novelty gift. It's not like I can't perform without it now, but I used to get so nervous that I'd always have it with me. And then, it sorta became my good luck charm. Now it's gone. So I'm freaking out." He explains to Connor in a frantic and fast-paced tone.   
"You don't need a koala, Troye boy." Connor tilts his head, soothingly rubbing a thumb on Troye's shoulder. "You're incredible. Your acting is spectacular, and so is your voice. I know you'll do great on stage with or without. Have faith in yourself, Troye. I know it's scary. You love it, and you don't know if you can ever do it justice. I don't understand crossing and marking and monologues all too well, but I understand that feeling. That's how I think of soccer. Trust me, you will deliver."  
"Really?"  
Connor thinks that he's never seen Troye like this before- not robust and energetic. But he knows he likes this part as equally as the rest of him. " _Really_. Go on, I heard that your last check-up run-through thing starts, like, now."  
"Give me something for good luck?" Troye asks timidly.  
And that's it. Connor's going crazy, this boy messes with him so hard. "Of course." He threads his fingers through the hair on the back of Troye's head and brings them closer, mainly bringing Troye down. Connor places a short closed-mouth kiss to Troye's forehead and smiles. "Break a leg, Troye boy. See you tonight."  
That night, Troye never makes any direct comments to him. But at the end of the performance when he's bowing with the cast, Connor sees the twinkle in his eye as their gazes meet. That's enough thanks for him.

\---

"How are you all celebrating your wonderful performance?" Felix asks, nudging his girlfriend lightly in the shoulder. He's so proud, it's endearing.  
"You know," Hannah begins.  
"Theatre geek things." Ingrid finishes. "There's plenty of show watching and snapchatting, probably. Dan and Phil are playing extreme video games somewhere around here."  
"Really?" He removes his arm from Marzia and leaves her to talk with the couple while he searches for the two boys. "I gotta check this out."   
He doesn't come across them in the first room. He sees Daniel and Joey completely entranced by their Lost marathon, sipping from tea cups and nibbling on popcorn.  
In the second room, he sees Anthony, Ian, Mari, and Mark crowded around two 3DS XLs playing Animal Crossing. Not what he was looking for, but he could get in on it later.  
In the third, he sees the back of Troye and Connor. Music videos are playing on the TV, but the two are not really playing attention. Troye is laying on Connor's chest, scrolling through his tumblr, while Connor runs his left hand through Troye's fringe, editing an Instagram photo with one hand. Felix will have to ask everybody if they've finally got together.  
"Up, Up, Down, Left!" He hears Dan shriek from the next room over.  
"Found 'em."   
They might be having sex, they might not.   
Felix is willing to take the risk if epic video games are involved. " _Hey, how's it going Bros_?" He greets, then looks down to see that the two have literally duct taped their legs together to play as one.  
"Well-  _PHIL_  GET IT TOGETHER IT'S LEFT RIGHT DOWN NOT RIGHT LEFT DOWN YOU SIMPLETON."  
"I take it you're doing well." Felix adds, chuckling.  
Phil laughs. "Let's just say,  _Phil Is Not On Fire_."  
"The cat whiskers come from within." Dan whispers, thrusting his feet onto the corresponding symbols on the DDR pad.  
"What?"  
"Nothing."

\---

"The last few games of the tournament are coming closer," Connor groans quietly, gripping his torso as he lies his head down on the desk. It's less than halfway into the last period of the day, there's only twenty minutes left, and it's study hall, so they really don't have to be here.   
 _Leave is highly discouraged, as the extra time with mentors is an advantage that deserves to be taken, but if a student requests to leave it is their right to be dismissed immediately so long as they are not due to be involved in a hearing or disciplinary investigation and that study hall is their last period of the school day._ Section 20, Paragraph 17 of the academy's student handbook.  
"Mr. Hank Green, may I escort Connor home? He seems to be needing his rest." Troye grips Connor's arm, struggling to keep him standing straight and tall.  
"I've been noticing he seemed off since supervision started. Well then, head to the office and sign out. And if you have any after-school commitments you will need to notify your instructors via Ms. Platelle at the front desk."  
"Of course, thanks Mr. Green."  
"Alright boys. Get some rest, Connor."  
As the two leave the front office, Troye turns back to him. "Need anything from your locker?"  
"Nope, I've got everything here."  
"Awesome, do you want me to drive?" Troye asks as they near Connor's 2005 Mercedes.  
"You didn't bring your car? I can drive myself."  
"Nah, Kayla was my ride this morning. I already texted her saying that I'd be taking you home, so she's not expecting me."  
"Well in that case, it would be nice if you could drive."  
"Of course." Troye remarks. "It's totally fine if you fall asleep, too."  
Connor accepts his invitation.  
And though he's driving with nothing but the radio on, Troye has never felt less alone.

\---

The drive doesn't take too long. The dorms are only a fifteen minutes away, although Connor's and his dorm are at the very edge of the area.   
Connor trades him the keys as they come to his door, but Troye doesn't get the chance to unlock it before it shoots open. A woman is standing there. She looks just like Connor.  
"Oh, hey Connor! I was just dropping off something Mom made you."  
"Your mom's in town?" Troye raises an eyebrow.  
"Yeah, she's staying at Nicola's flat."  
"Oh, that's really nice. How long is she staying for?"  
"Actually, she's leaving on Monday morning, so we're planning on having lunch all three of us Sunday afternoon." Nicola smiles softly. "I hope I don't come off as rude, but who are you, by the way?"  
"No worries. I'm Troye."  
"Oh, Troye!" She turns to Connor. "Boyfriend?"  
Connor shakes his head vigorously, blushing profusely.   
"I'm just helping Connor home, since he was terribly exhausted."  
"So not yet." She nods. "That's very sweet of you to watch after my brother. Thanks, Troye. I better be off. The spare keys are back on the counter, Con." Nicola slips between them and into the elevator before the two can protest.  
"What did she mean by not yet?"  
"Sisters are silly." Connor laughs, tossing his bag onto his couch. "Make yourself at home."  
"Your dorm is big for a single."  
"I know. It accidentally got an extra few square meters, so it's just a bit roomier."  
"So…  _Here we are_." Troye starts, walking his fingers along Connor's bookshelf. "What do you want to do?"  
"Watch a movie with me?"  
"Okay."


	5. Half-hate

"When did you have your last practice?"  
"This morning. Just a 45 minute commitment at seven. There's one more game until semi-finals, Troye. And if we win win, as the token playmaker, I might get some sort of recognition. I have scouts, and I've gotten offers, but if we win this year I can get an amazing chance. But I've been shit, tired off my ass. I benched the last time. I need to be in mint condition for these games, Tro." Connor has given up on watching Dory try to remember P. Sherman, and has began to watch Troye's face.  
Troye looks down at the body tangled with his and thinks, this is not how enemies work. Hell with it.  
"When's your next practice?" He inches closer.  
"Tomorrow morning."  
"And when's the last time you got a good wink of sleep?" He tilts his head to the side.  
"Few days ago."  
"Are you stressing out right now?" He asks, biting on his lip as he looks Connor up and down.  
"Not about soccer." With a small surge of courage, Connor brings Troye's lips to his, molding their mouths together in a steady rhythm. They're swaddled in blankets on Connor's couch, and Troye feels warm with the comforters around his body and with Connor's hot tongue against his.  
As Dory recalls her truth, the two boy's bodies find their own.

\---

It's 10 AM. They had fallen asleep while making out, cheesy teenagers they are. They woke briefly at 6 when Connor shot up, saying he had to be at practice and simultaneously groaning in pain at how sore his legs were. It goes without saying that Troye instructed him to relax and fall asleep again.  
Now it's four hours later, Connor is awoken by the light scent of bread in the toaster. He blinks his eyes open and sits up. "Morning." He calls.  
"Morning, Connie!"  
After stretching for a good twenty minutes, he enters the small kitchen.  
"Good, you're done. Cook eggs." Troye hands him a pan.  
"Why, can you  _not_  do eggs?" Connor teases.  
Troye avoids his gaze, crossing his arms.  
He gasps. "How can you  _not_  do eggs? Everyone can cook eggs!"  
"Do you  _want_ me to leave?"  
"Okay, okay, I'll make eggs. Do you like avocado?"  
"I fucking  _love_  avacado."  
Connor grins to himself, taking to work. "Okay then."

\---

They split after breakfast. Connor announces that he's going on a run, and is going to practice juggling and dribbling some throughout the day so he can get a light exercise.  
Troye agrees, telling him of plans to write music and see Ben. Just as he exits the door, Connor peeks his head out of the bathroom. "Will you come back tonight, Troye boy?"  
Troye pauses. "Uh, yeah." He smiles, stepping out the door. "Yeah, I will!"  
"I only half-hate you now." Connor adds before running the shower.  
"Half-hate you too." Troye declares, throwing a peace sign and shutting the door.

\---

"So what's the story?" Ben asks, sucking iced tea through a straw while directing his twinkling, amused eyes at Troye.  
"You really want me to tell you? Embarrass myself, in front of a  _freshman_?" A tiny smile is tickling the edges of his mouth, threatening to spread across his face.  
"You're not  _actually_  embarrassed, are you?"  
"Nah, nah. You really want to know?"  
Ben pouts, beginning to slide out his phone.  
"Oh, playing the ' _I'm going to ignore you for Tumblr_ ' card now are we? I feel like I'm talking to a child." Troye teases.  
"Too real." Ben replies unfazed. "Now spill that tea, mister!"  
"Self-tea." He rolls his eyes. "Okay. So, a few years ago when we were in 7th grade, Connor and I really fucking hated each other. Like,  _legitimately_.  We were still in the popular group, same as always, but he was the cliché superficial straight boy who only cared about high school, chicks, and other people's validation, in my eyes. People like that I just don't mix well with. But in 8th grade things came to other things and I could stand him. He came out, he became stronger, and I understood that he saw football- er,  _soccer_  as a dream, the way I do for music."  
"Okay, okay, you were cute, like Margo Roth Spiegelman and Quentin Jacobson, get to the kiss."  
Troye glares half-heartedly. "So we're at a dance towards the end of the year- Spring Dance. I've been there for about ten minutes, making small talk, when the new girl can't shut her mouth about something she eavesdropped and suddenly blurts Connor's secret to the foreigners from James Secondary."  
"That he hadn't-"  
"Shush. That he hadn't had his first kiss. At this time, the 14-year-olds from other schools hated his guts, since he's a fucking  _amazing_  soccer player and constantly beat their asses in Intermediate Football. And they basically made his life hell in 15 minutes."  
"YOU WERE HIS KNIGHT IN FUCKING ARMOR??? OH MY GOD I'M GOING TO SNAPCHAT THI-"  
"Shh, child. Everyone knows now, anyway."  
"NOT THE CLASS OF 2019, YOU ASS!"  
" _Calm_. I never ask  _you_  about Tyde, now do I?" Troye grins.  
"But you  _could._ " Ben blushes while pointing out. "I'm an open book."  
"Fine. But you are  _definitely_  telling me about yourfirst kiss with him." Troye sighs. "So yes, I follow Connor outside, sorta tell him that I haven't kissed anyone either…"  
"And then?"  
"And then…" Troye blushes. " _You shut up_."

\---

"Hey," Troye muttered, cautiously following Connor out the large school doors. "Wanna talk?"  
"Not with the likes of you if you're just going to bag me down about my future status of forever-alone."  
"I wouldn't do that." He argued, arms pulled defensively across his chest.  
"And why not?" Connor sneered. "Perfect opportunity to shun the guy you've hated since we both transferred to the UK."  
"I'm not Satan, Connor. And uh, it's not my place."  
"Leaving it to those James assholes? Alright, I have some respect for you."  
"No, shut your fucking mouth, Connor!"  
Connor cringed in on himself, scrunching his body into a rather small ball.  
"I'm sorry, Connor. I didn't mean-"  
The older boy sniffled. "It's okay-"  
"No, it's not, Connor. You're strong, you're better. Act like it."  
"You're just dandy at cheering people up."  
"Ugh, I'm sorry." Troye whined, pounding at his own head, "Nothing's coming out the right way. Just, I'm sorry and to put it in the universe, I'veneverbeenkissedeither." He rushed.  
"Oh?"  
"Yeah. Oh."  
"I mean… like,  _oh_."  
" _Oh_. Would you-" Troye paused as he realized Connor was talking.  
"Do you wanna-" Connor stopped so Troye could go.  
"You first." They chorused together.  
"Okay." They said.  
"Do you want to-"  
"Let's kiss." Connor backtracked. "If you're into it."  
"Yeah. Yeah, I am. I may have a tiny pseudo-crush on you." Troye felt color running to his cheeks. He reprimanded, "Don't let it get to your head."  
"Oh, it's not going to my head. Well, not this one." Connor smirked, tapping his temple.  
"Ugh, gross." Troye laughed, giving the boy a shove.  
"Here we go." Connor started, nervously nearing him.  
"Well, you're taking your time." Troye giggled.  
"Shut up."  
"Want me to kiss you?"  
Connor nodded.  
Troye pulled him by the necktie, closer, so their breaths were collectively exhaling and inhaling together. The chaperone was turning to face them soon, they had to make it quick.  
Their lips met, and they tasted like skin and 8th grade. But they felt warm and thrumming inside. God, Troye loved it so much. He was terrified.  
They yanked apart, just in time for Ms. Halloway to smile at them and say that they should be inside enjoying the night.   
They nodded politely, returning into the hall. Troye still felt Connor's breath on his neck, and Connor couldn't look at those blue eyes the same.


	6. Like?

"I don't care what you say. That is so fucking cute! You had- _have_?- a crush on him! You must want to kiss him everyday, based on how you talk about it."  
"He's a different kisser now, better." Troye mutters, off-hand.  
"What?"  
"What?"  
"You kissed him  _again_?"  
"Maybe a couple times freshman year… Just for practice."  
"And then?" Ben pipes up, clearly entertained.  
"We said we didn't need anymore practice, so we stopped kissing for that reason."  
"For that reason?" Ben raises an eyebrow. He gasps in realization when Troye hides his face. "Did you kiss this year? When- how many times-  _why_?"  
"Only twice. Um, Saturday last week during Truth or Dare. And uh, last night when we were in bed-"   
Ben nearly chokes on an ice cube. "WHAT?"  
"No, no! Not like that! We were watching Finding Nemo, exact  _opposite_  of that!"  
"This isn't like a friends with benefits thing, right? You're not going to get hurt?"  
"I don't think it's like that at all. He was just stressed, we made out, then we fell asleep-"  
"YOU STAYED AT HIS PLACE?"  
"Yeah." Troye scratches his neck. "Is it weird if I say I'm gonna stay there tonight too?"  
Ben raises a suspicious eyebrow. "Do you still say 'I hate you?'"  
"No, we say 'I half-hate you,' now."  
"Is it because you're too scared to tell him you think otherwise? You don't hate him, Troye, you l-"  
"Yeah. Partially, yeah." It's now Troye's turn to grin and Ben's to squirm. "Now Benjamin, I believe you owe me the tale of how you wooed my little brother."

\---

Connor and Troye are sitting side by side, legs folded as their laptops sit atop their thighs.   
Troye smiles in secret delight when he sees that Connor reblogged one of his posts. God, this boy drives him insane.  
"Troye?" Connor sighs, shutting down his MacBook and wrapping his arms around Troye's waist. "What if the scouts don't like me? What if I'm still tired and pathetic? What if we don't even make it to semi-finals?"  
He's never put away his computer so damn fast. Troye kisses the top of Connor's hair. They'll have to figure out this relationship later. "It'll be their loss. How did you sleep last night?"  
"Really good actually." Connor pulls the covers up to his stomach, laying back and shooting Troye a grateful smile. "Thank you for calming me down."  
"Of course. How were you today when you exercised?"  
"Better. I ran two miles like five minutes quicker. It was nice."  
"I'm proud of you. Get sleep, yeah?" His heart beats with pride at the thought of Connor's success. Troye yawns. "I'm getting tired too." He rises, rubbing a tired eye. The couch isn't  _that_  bad, Troye tries to convince himself. "I'll-"  
"Sleep with me?" He sighs. "That sounded sexual. Whatever,  _please_." Connor pleads, a hand shooting out for Troye's.  
And even though he really shouldn't, Troye'll be damned if he doesn't climb into bed and comfort Connor.  
He lets out a happy sigh, hugging the older boy under the covers.  
They're drowning in each other's eyes, waiting for something to happen.  
"I like you. A lot." Connor blurts. "Wow, my mouth has no filter." He looks down, ashamed slightly.  
"Cute." Troye presses a kiss to Connor's nose. "I like you too, silly."

\---

He doesn't really talk to anyone else about it, that is until he goes out for sushi with Kayla.  
"I haven't heard from you lately. Don't tell me you've been holed up at home with your laptop all weekend."  
He chuckles and scratches the back of his head. "I was actually at Connor's these past couple of days."  
She raises an eyebrow. "Really?"  
"I mean, he's really stressing out about this tournament. I told him he's just tired and he needs rest. But he's so stubborn. He insisted on going to practice Saturday morning, but I convinced him to stay in. Then he convinced me to stay the night again. I don't know," He shrugs nonchalantly, "Someone needed to take care of him."  
Kayla smirks and traces circles on her plate with a pair of chopsticks. "You stayed at his place for two nights just to watch him. You  _care_  about Connor."  
His eyes widen, and he almost chokes on his rainbow roll. "What?" Troye manages to squeak.  
"You act like enemies, but I know that behind closed doors, there's a whole different story."  
"So what if I care about him? So do you."  
"I wouldn't stay at his place."  
Troye blushes. "I mean, of course I care. I get him, and he gets me. That's why it's so easy to butt heads with him. I might think he's a blathering idiot sometimes, but he's been really nice to me. And I want to be nice to him."  
"You kissed, didn't you?"  
"Maybe."  
"OH MY GOD, TROYE!"  
He groans. "Not  _you_  too."  
"You should've seen Ben! He was over the moon."  
"I  _did_  see him." His eyes widen. "You knew! Ben told you! The little shit."  
"Of course I knew. What happened last night?"  
"HOW ARE YOU SO CALM ABOUT THIS?"  
She laughs.  
Troye rolls his eyes. "I told him that I like him. He, um, said it first, actually."  
"Wow. That's. Wow, good job. That's a big step for you two."  
"Uh, yeah. Yeah, it is."


	7. Half-A-Date

Troye and Connor are swinging their legs off the low wall in the courtyard, sharing an Arizona Green Tea as they both nibble on Thai café food.   
"You know what we should do sometime?" Connor finally whispers after half an hour of silent internal conflict.   
"What, honey?"  
Connor blushes at the silly nickname, and pouts that it's just that. They've sort of become best friends, and Connor sort of loves it, but he knows he would love something else much more. "Go on a date."  
"Sorry, I didn't hear you?"  
"We should go out."  
"What?" Troye asks smugly.  
"Oh shut up." Connor giggles, as he looks away and kicks his feet, smacking the rubber heels of his Nikes against the old brick.  
"You want to go out with me?"  
"Uh, y-yeah."  
Troye pauses in thought. "I would like that. But," He notices Connor's look of dread, "Monday, when we were studying together, wasn't that sort of a date? When we made out on your kitchen counter yesterday wasn't that like half-a-date?"  
"If you want it to be." Connor's beaming.  
"So," Troye continues, tipping the shorter boy's chin up. "This could be a date."  
"Could be."  
"Good to know." Troye adds, connecting his lips with the shorter boy's.

\---

"You're  _dating_." Marcus repeats.  
"CALLED IT!" Tyler shrieks, forcing Shane to hand over a $20 bill.   
As Kian does with Ricky, Caspar does with Marcus, Daniel does with Joey, and Ingrid does with Hannah. Dan and Phil just stand there coyly as they watch the two newly-found boyfriends. "Knew you two were going to come around."  
"I feel  _so_ objectified." Connor states blankly.  
"You bet on our relationship?  _Eugh_." Troye sticks his tongue out at them.  
"Stop, babe." Connor whines, nuzzling his face into Troye's neck.  
Ingrid awes, holding a hand over her heart and wiping away an imaginary stray tear like a proud mother.  
"It was  _bound to happen_." Tyler sing-songs, pocketing the cash with a grin.  
"I heard you in Connor's kitchen. Nothing screams 'I hate you' more than almost fucking someone next to a bunch of pots and pans." Dan smirks.  
"We were  _not_ going to have sex!" Connor defends.  
"Are you sure?" Phil giggles.  
"Yes, of course I'm sure!"   
"I wasn't completely sure." Troye grins. "But maybe I was just horny."  
"You're gross just like me now." Connor scrunches his face in mock-disgust.  
"The both of you sicken me." Ricky teases.

\---

For the first time in what feels like a century, Troye actually starts to feel comfortable in sports fields. Not any old sports fields; soccer fields. He's begun to adore them, to connect them with the fondest of memories. Instead of intimidating bro-culture and terrifying terms, he now hears music. The angelic voices of Oh Wonder or Zella Day maybe, the synthpop beats of Years & Years or something poppin' by Beyoncé. Perhaps a track off the Channel Orange or Crybaby. The melodies are paired with natural sounds, with birds chirping and wind squeaking through the tall goal posts, and the occasional squish of mud against cleats or the high-pitched wail of a coach's whistle.   
Troye also hears Connor; his steady breathing as he runs across an entire field seven times, the smack of a Size 5 soccer ball against his Adidas Predators, bouncing off the crook of his ankle and up into the air. His laugh when the guys rag on him at practice- for a goal that they'll later admit was rightfully spectacular.   
Troye sees his script, the same Courier print that makes him bubble up with joy inside at the thought of his summer musical, at the hope of the West End. He sees rings of peach and lemon atop the fresh lime grass as the sun begins to sleep. He sees the concentration in Connor's expression as his feet dance aside each other, in step-overs or jukes or some shit.   
He feels Connor's sweatshirt in his arms, his back pressed against his chest, his lips against his neck mumbling that they should go back to the dorms. His giggle when the stars have begun to creep out and they're still lying on the field ground.  
And what used to be obsolete to Troye: stadiums and sports teams and players with contracts, now sounds like a dreamland to him. Connor has told him about wishes of a large stadium, also in London, not too far from their own school. It's filled with thousands of blue seats trimmed with yellow, the finest players in the world, and some of the most dedicated fans. Connor's eyes light up when he talks about it, his fingers feel electric when he grasps Troye's waist subconsciously out of the sheer excitement, his voice dips and flies as he tells of how  _Franta_ will be the name on the back of The Blues' playmaker jersey- perhaps with a large white number ten under it. Troye used to not be sure of which team was supposed to be scoring in which goal, but now he has visions of roaring crowds screaming his boyfriend's name, interviewers teasing him about his soccer hot-shot before asking about his album. And Troye craves it, he wants it. For Connor  _and_ for him. Now, Troye can see Chelsea FC's  _Stamford Bridge_  packed to the brim with people trying to get a glimpse of Connor's magnetic aura and quicker-than-lightning pair of legs, just as clear as he can see himself standing on a Hollywood red carpet, promoting his starring role in a summer action flick.

\---

Connor walks into his dorm room with a big bowl for the popcorn and silently gasps at the sight before him.  
Troye is flicking through his script, legs tucked up on Connor's couch. He's wearing nothing but boxer briefs and one of the many practice shirts Connor owns. Connor notices the way the six letters detail his back,  _Franta_  written in bold in an arc just under his neck. His breath hitches. "H-hey Tro."  
Troye turns his head. "Hey Con! Oh, did you not want me to wear this? I just figured since there was nothing else... I can take it off?" He suggests, beginning to tug at the hem.  
"N-no, it's okay! It looks, ehm, good on you!" Connor squeaks, setting the bowl down on his counter.  
"Are you okay, Connie?"  
"Um, well, uh. I don't know. Just seeing you in clothing with my name on it- God, it makes me feel so posessive and uh,"  
Troye giggles as he begins to catch on, setting his script down on the table and walking to his boyfriend. "It turns you on."  
"Y-yeah. A lot. It's weird, I kno-"  
Troye just smiles, tipping Connor's chin up and capturing his lips in a slow and sensual kiss. Troye drags his lips down Connor's neck, kissing and teasing the sensitive skin until Connor's blush covers it in red. He bites lightly, flicking his tongue against the spot to ease the sting.  
Connor shuts his eyes, gripping the counter so he doesn't fall over. "T-tro, it hurts."  
When Connor meets his gaze, Troye's eyes are a little blown, but he still looks concerned. "What? The bite?" Troye kisses it against, soft and quick. "There, all better."  
"Actually no, not my neck. My, um-"  
" _Oh._ "  
"Haha.  _Yeah_." Connor blushes.  
"Do you... want to?"  
"Okay."  
"Okay?"  
Connor nods, resuming their kiss and simultaneously pulling Troye into his bedroom. He stumbles a bit walking backwards, but it's all very Connor of him, and Troye couldn't love it more.  
Troye pushes him down onto the  _full_  bed- yes, Connor is that lucky-and shivers as Connor's fingertips press into his waist.  
"This isn't fair." Troye giggles into Connor's mouth.  
"What?"  
"I'm not wearing pants."  
"Well, you always know how to undo mine." Connor smirks, pulling Troye down for another kiss.  
"Wait. Ah fuck, I do blow you!" Troye huffs.  
Connor raises an eyebrow. " _What_?"  
"Remember, we argued at that party? Damn it, you were right."  
"That's not relevant." Connor giggles.  
"It sort of is, babe." Troye says, gesturing to their current position.  
"If you want,  _I'll_  blow-"  
"No, it's okay, I like doing it for you."  
"W-would you want to maybe, like, um, have sex?"  
"Isn't that what we're going to do now?"  
"I hoped. Wow, we talk a lot." Connor laughs before kicking his jeans off.   
Troye nods, tangling his hands in Connor's hair and moaning every time Connor's lip is pulled between his teeth. "But it's how we are. It's good."  
Somehow Troye finds a way to get both of their shirts on the floor and forgotten before Connor can finish moaning Troye's name.  
Connor drags his fingers against Troye's bare back, shuddering under the hot breaths that loom over his skin when Troye presses open mouthed kisses to his chest.   
"You're beautiful." Troye whispers.  
"You're gorgeous as well." Connor smiles up at him.  
Troye dips his fingers into Connor's waistband and slowly tugs his boxers off, kissing into Connor's neck as the boy begins to flush red at the coldness of the room.  
Troye's boxer briefs are pushed to the foot of the bed, somewhere to find later.  
Troye kisses the inside of Connor's thighs softly, eyes flitting back to Connor at every small movement.  
"There's lube and condoms in the dresser. Today do you want to, maybe, top?" Connor asks, bashfully.  
"Wait," Troye instructs before leaning over and shutting the bedroom door, "Sure, lovely."

\---

"God, I'm so proud of you." Troye grins, squeezing Connor's arm before he goes out onto the field.  
He's come so far. They're going to ace this last game, Troye knows it.  
"I haven't even won yet." Connor giggles, stretching his arms over his head. "Shit, there's a scout for the Chelsea U-18s here."  
"The guy who invited you to the summer clinic at Stamford Bridge for late additions to the squad?"  
"Yeah. He's been watching me for a couple games now, I think he'll offer me a spot on  _the actual Chelsea youth team_ if we win." Connor lets out a shaky breath.  
"You're already a winner to me."  
"You're sappy. I appreciate you, still."  
"I believe in you."  
"Thanks."  
"You know he's going to offer you a spot no matter what, so long as you play the best Franta tricks you've got, right? Break a leg, babe. Or good luck is it, in football?" Troye smiles, letting Connor go to his pre-finals warm up. "I ' _hate_ ' you." He sings.  
Connor giggles, pressing a soft kiss to Troye's lips. " _I love you too_."


End file.
